


Why are your eyes so red?

by luxuries



Series: Lux. Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Abuse, Asphyxiation, Bruce Wayne is a Bad Parent, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Slade Wilson, Muteness, Violence, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:29:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26812933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxuries/pseuds/luxuries
Summary: Dick can't stop making mistakes. It's only right that he needs to be punished.OR:Dick accidentally falls asleep during the job, Bruce is big mad and hurts Dick. Jason is not having it.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd
Series: Lux. Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947232
Comments: 7
Kudos: 180
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Why are your eyes so red?

**Author's Note:**

> No 4. RUNNING OUT OF TIME  
> Caged | Buried Alive | Collapsed Building - From Whumptober 2020. ## Alt. 13 Accidents  
> I don't know why but I was so stuck on this one! So I used an alt: accidents. I hope this is still whumpy enough.   
> Dick is technically 'running out of time' lol you'll see what I mean  
> Content warning for violence, abusive situations and bad parent.

Hands are on him hands are on him hands are on him-

"Dick!" Jason. His brother- his brother- his brother. 

He startles awake with a half-formed scream in his throat, panting heavily. He looks around wildly, trying to regain awareness of his situation. He's still in the bat cave, he's still in the office chair (which was insultingly comfortable), and he's still cradling the half full cup of coffee in his palm. Somehow, it broke all rules of gravity.

The only difference- and this was a big difference- was the crowd of faces staring at him with concern. The faces belonged to the small C group Bruce had recently formed in favor of keeping some new gang at bay- Dick wasn't paid enough to remember all the details. Between this and police work, Dick was running on empty. The group included Superman (obviously; the pinning Bruce did for that man was bordering on creepy) Red Robin, Red Hood, Robin, Green lantern and some suited individuals Dick couldn't work out in his half-awake state.

Dick groans in realization, shifting his eyes from the wide mission board screen of cctv (which he was supposed to be watching like a hawk, so much for that) to the collection of heroes watching him. Jason is standing just beside him, hands up like Dick's an expensive vase about to fall.

"Oops." The majority crack a smile, Kent shakes his head with a smirk while Tim nods in solidarity. Damian, however, looked angry. Probably at how 'unfit' Dick was for the job. 

"We thought you were in trouble." Bruce's gravely voice demands attention. He sounded angry, rightfully so. All Dick could do was shrink further into the luscious, godly cushions. It was so warm and comfortable. His eyes were drifting shut too easily- the fight between sleep and wakefulness decidedly defeated. Shaking his head, he concentrates on the details in Batman's suit. He needed to focus on something or he was going to fall asleep again.

"I'm sorry Bruce, I don't know what came over me." Dick attempts, but he knows the argument's been settled. He would be punished however the big man saw fit. Not only had he jeopardized the mission, he had embarrassed Bruce. Here he was; the ex-Robin turned Nightwing. Trained under Batman and Slade. And he couldn't manage to stay awake for one tiny mission? It brought Bruce's training to question; it brought his pride down with it. Right in front of his colleagues.

"Irresponsible and sloppy. I'll speak to you later." 

Dick withered under the scrutiny- wishing he were stronger. He was probably the weakest in his family... Jason sends him a concerned glance but walks off with the rest of the group, no doubt getting out of his suit and into a feathery, large, comfortable, warm bed. It sounded like heaven but hurt like hell, knowing what stood waiting for him. 

Nevertheless, he nods and starts making a report of the mission, fingers trembling as he types.

-

After about 3 hours of keeping his eyes open with his fingers and sitting in obscene positions, Bruce arrives.

"Stand up." Pain was a familiar concept to Dick- a punch here, a stab here and there, gunshot wounds all over- it held little surprise. But Bruce's punishments- Oh ho ho. That was a new level of torture. The man he saw as a mentor, a teacher and a father, disowning Dick, hurt more than his nails being ripped off. A brutal mix of mental and physical 'training'.

Dick stands up, straight as a ruler and incredibly tense. Keeping his eyes on the man's chest was standard procedure by now. Meeting his eyes was a challenge Dick did not wish to partake in. Besides, it was safer this way. He couldn't see the painful disapproval on Bruce's face. 

For what feels like minutes but were more likely seconds, he stands still and straight like a soldier who's about to go to the front lines. The knowledge of certain death, of losing another part of himself (hope, hope, hope) of coming back changed- every vowel of his mentors words chipped away at his self image. Dick was a man. Was he? He still clung to the childish fear Bruce so despised. He still cowered over every glance of disapproval. A man shouldn't be- isn't, Dick.

Finally, Bruce steps up the stairs to the platform, standing directly in front of him. Dick would have to raise his head now to see his face. Gosh darn his tall stature. All intimidating 6 feet 2 inches of him. Dick took after his father- his real father. Lean, mean, flying machine. Annoyingly shorter than most of his current family. It was an unpleasant reminder.

The cave is unnaturally quiet, holding its breath for Bruce's next move. Dick can hear the man's low breathing and his own short, slightly panicked, response. _Calm down._ The mission was successful, surely he couldn't be too mad? Dick tries not to think of the other times he messed up. Slade and Bruce both had their unique forms of discipline. Both had a way of crawling into Dick's head and leaving him ruined for days. His heart pounds in his ears as Bruce lifts Dick's chin- forcing him to see what he's done. Bruce looks disappointed, as expected, and sad. His eyebrows are open and wide, his eyes soft and tender. His mouth, however, is tilted downwards in a frown, twitching slightly as if he's clenching his teeth too hard.

"You know I don't want to do this, Richard." Dick is a child- a child- a child. Bruce's tone is so gentle it burns. Dick's eyes start to water (hallelujah) after what feels like days of dryness- blinking hurt. Who knew all it took to stay awake was Bruce treating him like a kid again? "I hate it when you get like this. You know the mission always comes first." Dick looks down to his stomach to make sure he isn't being punched. 'Like this'? How often had Dick messed up in Bruce's eyes? 

"Bruc-" He's shushed by a gloved hand clenching his cheeks together. If it wasn't so painfully tight, Dick would have laughed- he must look like a fish. But the feeling of his teeth almost being crushed in one hand makes him groan instead. He lifts his hands- a mistake- and tries to detach the death grip, pulling on Bruce's impossibly strong arm. 

"Shhh," Bruce's eyes are shark-like, intently focused on Dick as he struggles to break the hold. "Don't cry, I hate seeing you cry." 

Dick's veins course with adrenaline as he finally manages to break free, clambering back a few steps before stabilizing himself on the mission table. He feels wetness on his cheeks, he can't help it. Tears drip down his face, dangerous and unbidden. Bruce becomes impossibly more angry, seething as he stomps over to Dick's new position, daring him to try to escape.

 _Just let it happen._ The faster he got this over with the faster he could go to bed. Sure, most likely bleeding, but in bed nonetheless. Bruce traps him between the table and his legs. Everything was too much- too close (Bruce's legs feel like boulders. He can't escape. This is hopeless), too far (why is the cave so god awfully empty?!) and too shameful (Dick can't even stop him, he deserves this).

Bruce places a hand on his chest and forces him down. Dick is draped over the table, soldier figurines picking into his back like lego as he shifts to find a more comfortable position. The sound of little trinkets and tools falling to the ground like a waterfall of toys. His cheeks are wet- Bruce hated it when he cried. He hated it. The map is clearly ruined thanks to Dick- he hoped Bruce wouldn't punish him for the act. His thighs hang on the table while his knees hang uselessly, which would probably be uncomfortable for most people. Dick appreciates his flexibility a lot more now.

"What-" He needs to know what the hell Bruce is planning, why he won't just get on with it. The man hovers over him and brings his hands to rest on Dick's neck. Dick swallows in suspense and Bruce hooded eyes follow his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Dick is suddenly very aware of his throat- at the fingers tightening around it. At the bruising pressure starting to form in finger shaped imprints. 

Worst of all- he notices his breath coming out in short bursts. Bruce wouldn't- wouldn't-

But he does. Dick starts gasping for air. Wonders what's more painful; the lack of oxygen or the pain of his throat being squeezed like a stress ball. Dick's hands yet again try to pry the gloved fingers off of him. This time, he knows he won't be successful. He claws at the gloved hands to no avail, the man not even flinching from his desperate attempts. He wants to yell out his name, he wants to beg for forgiveness. He wants to get on his knees and beg for another chance.

Embarrassing, ugly wheezing sounds echo throughout the cave as he struggles to _breathe_. He's really done it this time, huh? Dick's hands fall, his body tingling with numbness. Flecks of black, like clumps of snow, obstruct his view of Bruce's murderous face. A small mercy. Death wasn't comforting; it didn't offer flashes of his life when he was at his best. Rather, it broadcasted all his regrets. All his failures. Maybe if he wasn't so weak, his life would've been different. His parents wouldn't have died- he would've saved them. Jason wouldn't have been treated like a toy in the Jokers hands- he would've been there. And Bruce... Bruce wouldn't have to feel the guilt associated with killing someone. 

Even in death he was a failure.

With the thought of maybes and should haves, Dick lets himself go.

-

He's alive.

The sound of arguing nearby rouses him from a long required nap, dragging him to dreaded wakefulness. 

Everything hurt. His throat felt like a knife, scraping against his insides with abandon. Every breath he took felt constructed and odd, a whistle like feeling of not quite getting enough air- enough air- enough air-

Oh god.

Bruce-

His train of thought is scattered at the arrival of Jason, the door opening with a loud bang. He's heaving, a living personification of anger. Shoulders lifted, hackles raised like a caged animal, looking everywhere all at once before zeroing in on Dick's resting form. Jason does not look stable. Dick quickly (painfully) brings himself to a seated position, trying to be strong in front of his brother. He couldn't handle any more embarrassment. 

And when Dick tries to speak he finds he can't-

"What did that bastard do to you?" Jason is seething. He looks pointedly at Dick's neck and the IV line next to the bed. Dick lowers his gaze automatically. Jason grabs a wooden chair and shoves it next to Dick's bed. He sits with a huff, his leg shaking and fingers drumming over his thighs. Dick starts explaining but all that leaves him is puffs of air and a strained whimper. Jason narrows his eyes and reaches into his pocket. 

Of course Jason carries a notebook in his pocket. Dick gives a small, appreciative smile as he opens to a new page- trying to avoid looking at anything personal. His hand is surprisingly stable as he writes down what happened, in short.

 _He lost control. It was an accident._

He lifts it higher for Jason to see, waiting for an acknowledgement of his sentence. Instead, the man grabs the notebook and hurls it towards the wall. It lands with a soft 'thunk', pages flapping and little notes slipping out of it. Dick gurgles in surprise at the action. Jason leans forward, suddenly all up in his face, grabbing onto his shoulders and shaking him like a rag doll. He lets it happen. Besides, he can't even object. Whenever he tries to speak his throat feels like sandpaper. It rubs at his voicebox, unendingly bleeding and grating the muscles to shreds.

Was this permanent?

"It was not a fucking accident, understood?" Jason stops shaking him (thank god) and searches his eyes for comprehension. Dick nods, even though he doesn't really believe it- doesn't want to believe it- because Jason wouldn't leave him alone otherwise. And Dick really wants to sleep. Wants to forget, just briefly, how disposable he is. "When Damian found you-" Jason stops at Dick's distressed intake of air, probably looking if he wasn't convulsing. He might as well be. Damian, oh Damian. What must the boy have thought? 

"When Damian found you," Jason continues, seemingly satisfied with his brief medical check up. "He had to fight Bruce off of you." Dick doesn't want to hear it. He wills Jason to stop with just a look, trying to convey a thousand words with only his eyes. But Jason doesn't stop. "You were unconscious and he just walked away. That man does not care for you." Dick knew Jason was just trying to reason with him, trying to loosen the supposed relationship Dick had with Bruce, invite space for reflection. But it just confirms Dick's fears. He blocks his ears with his hands but Jason grabs hold of his wrists, bringing them down to his lap. It's all too much. The numbness of shock lifts and he's assaulted with his own feelings of loss. Loss of trust, of understanding. What Jason said made sense, and god, did it hurt.

Dick is crying again. So, so weak. 

His chest heaves and he makes a sound like a wounded animal would- all confusion and loss. Shivering and quaking like a fawn. Jason holds him then, a buoy in the sea keeping him afloat. For how long could he hold on? For how long would he burden his family like this?

"Dick I- I didn't mean to be harsh-" Jason climbs onto the bed and reaches for him with wide arms. Clinging to each other, Jason starts softly rowing them back and forth. It was something they used to do, when they were younger. Before Jason was killed and he was still young and confused and looked at Dick for comfort. The IV line clinks softly against the wooden frame board every time they lean forward. It's something to focus on. "I just want you to understand what he's doing is wrong and you deserve better." Dick closes his eyes and pretends he's in the sky, a bird who doesn't need strings to ground him. Flying was all about letting go, stretching your wings wide as they can be, letting the wind carry you where it wants.

"-deserve better." The man clutching onto him like a newborn repeats, a broken croak. Dick nods against his shoulder. He just wants to sleep. Wants to apologize to Damian. Wants to make things right with Bruce. "I'll take care of you, Dick. You'll never have to talk to Bruce again." Dick doesn't respond to that- it was too complicated. Simple actions couldn't express his carnal need for the man's affection, the praise and acknowledgements. It was drilled into him since an early age; a wicked give and take whereby Dick gave too much, way too much, and Bruce didn't give him anything in return. It created expectation and habit. Now Dick was paying for it.

He falls asleep in Jason's arms, slumped forward with his head resting on the man's steady shoulder. Listening to the heartbeat resounding in the man's chest as it slowed along with his.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Ms. Led by jack stauber, the last minute of that song makes me WEEP and also it fits Dick and Bruce's relationship
> 
> "I gave you all  
> You wanted more from me"
> 
> also im posting this on my 3G lol so im trying to go super fast.  
> Let me know if there are any mistakes and I'll try fix them when I get WIFI back.


End file.
